


Deafening Silence

by lesquatrechevrons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Swearing, This Is STUPID, lot of pining, unless crawling in someone's lap is smut then it's NOT smut, unrequited (sorta)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesquatrechevrons/pseuds/lesquatrechevrons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the others leave to do what couples do, Niall feels left out and Josh should be the one to help him out (this is what friends do, isn't it?), except he doesn't want to. Not really.<br/>This story features some spilled drinks, quiet backyards covered in snow and a really drunk Irishman.</p><p>  <em>“How is it that everyone can say I’m worth more than this but no one can ever give it to me?”</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Deafening Silence

“One more. Just… just one more. Please?”

But as Niall’s hand darts for the drink I stop him, trying to get the glass as far away from him as possible. He almost had me, then and there. I try to steel myself for his next attack: the puppy eyes. And Niall James Horan has puppy eyes that _kill_. Zayn’s are nothing, in comparison.

 _Blondie_ keeps tugging my sleeve, begging me, coming near and then taking a step back, swaying in rhythm with the music or his drunkenness. Unfortunately he’s beautiful either way, even if I shouldn’t say that. I shouldn’t feel that. Maybe I am a little drunk, too.

“Josh…” he whines.

“Sorry mate, you’re too drunk to even walk properly”, I answer. And if I give you another bottle, I’ll have the management so far upon my ass that I’ll be chocking on their lawsuits. And we are in public, dammit, in the middle of fucking Toronto. So nope, no more alcohol for Niall James Horan. Or me.

“Cooome ooon, you know you want it”, he murmurs in my ear, suddenly too close, too near, too everything. “Be a good drummer, and do me a fucking favour”. His voice trails off, and his mouth ends up on my throat. And, _guess what?_ I can almost feel the snap! Of a photo being taken by one of the nearby paparazzi. We are so fucked.

 _Ok, let’s getta outta here_ , I think while grabbing Niall by the wrist and starting to find a way out in the maelstrom of bodies and lights writing and pulsing in time with the music. _It will be a quiet night with the lads, Josh. Relaxing, chill, just keep an eye on_ him _after the fifth pint._ I try not to growl when I remember bits and pieces of the conversation; Paul is one sly puppeteer. At least Horan is following me without putting up too much of a fight, finding fun in being a dead weight. I don’t really care, though, and my anger – with just the right dash of alcohol and excitation in it – helps me to plow ahead, until we finally reach a black door. We stop for just enough time to open the door, and then throw ourselves on the other side of it.

The sudden silence behind the flame retardant door is so absolute that it’s almost deafening. Also…

“Fuck you, Josh, I’m going to die ‘cos of the friggin’ cold, you arsehole”, Niall says. He almost screams, trying to keep himself warm by hopping around like some crazy rabbit on meths, the backyard covered in snow.

 _Isn’t he lovely?_ I think with a smile, blocking the door with my body and watching him, looking at the way the street lights make his hair glow like some sort of angelic halo, or how his sweat-soaked black tank top is glued to his chest. The fact that he keeps on swearing like there is no tomorrow with those full lips of his just makes him even more endearing. Then a familiar weight in my hand reminds me that I still have one drink to finish, and I bring it to my lips, ready to drink.

“You know, since you brought me in the middle of a snowy backyard you could at least try to _warm_ me”. Our gazes lock, me with the drink pressed on my lips, and he looking half wistful and half pissed at me. Or at my drink. Maybe both.

Something in the way he practically growls makes my breath catch and jumpstarts my heart, reminding me of other times, of other places. Something in his heavy lidded eyes - the way they almost sparkle - or in his cheeks - reddened because of the alcohol and the cold. In his mouth, the way it’s slanted to the left in a bitter smile. He rekindles something - something that I need to push away, to stomp under other pressing things.

And that’s when I decide to piss him even more, finishing the whole drink in a last swallow.

Still, I don’t exactly recall how do I find myself pressed against the door, Niall Horan all over me and the glass long forgotten on the floor.

“Payback is a bitch, you know that, don’t you, moron?”, he growls under his breath, his face mere inches from mine. I try to keep my face composed, but it’s not easy. Maybe I’m too drunk, now. Maybe he is too. Or maybe he’s not drunk enough, but I am for both of us.

 “Niall, tomorrow you won’t like it. We broke it off, remember?”, I whisper back, now… _excited_. Dammit, _I_ broke it off months ago, but he still seeks me out when the others get lost to do what normal couple do, and he ends up alone. Because he _knows_. He knows that we don’t exactly care for each other as the lads do, but we still are – or were – friends, so we know each other, so we _rely_ on each other for things like that _. And a friend should always help a bro in need, shouldn’t he?_

 “Yes, I remember _you_ did. But I’m alooone, Josh. And not nearly drunk enough. And I’m freezing my ass off, thanks to you”. His voice starts off angry, then becomes childish, and ends up being a soft-spoken plea. Pleading for what, I don’t want to know, but he succeeds in making me feel guilty, the fucking Princess In Need Act getting me every time. That’s why I end up wrapping my arms around his waist, hugging and stroking his shoulders, while he just breaths deeply into my neck. And then the feeling strikes me once again, as strong as if it was the first time.

 _I do miss him_. His awkward laughs in some particular moments, or the way he moves his hands tentatively in places he doesn’t really know. How he yawns when he’s sleepy, how he hides his face in everything – from a sweatshirt to someone’s neck - when he’s embarrassed. I miss him and I know this feeling is so wrong in so many ways that I shouldn’t even begin to contemplate it at all.

 “This is not right, and ya know it”, I murmur in his ear and I might have accidentally kissed his earlobe. Just because he temped me, the little fucker.

“I know, but tonight… them… I”, he tries to answer back, grabbing a fistful of my t-shirt and basically crawling in my lap.

And when his lips start kissing my throat, I feel it too. That claustrophobic loneliness, the feeling that you don’t belong to the exclusive club of “happily together in our in-plain-sight-closet” couples, and he won’t because, _hello!_ One Direction are five lads and if four of them are committed to each other, guess who ends up being alone.

 And Niall is scared shitless of _remaining_ alone. He wouldn’t care if his soul mate were a girl or a boy. He has come to terms with the fact that he just wants to have someone ready to cuddle and take care and just love him at a moment’s notice, and he is adorable because of it, he really is. It’s just… he tried a lot. With a lot of different people, and they all gave him the same answer.

“Niall, you deserve more than a blowjob against the door of some club, with someone who’s not really into you.” This kind of answer.

Forget the fact that I am that someone. Forget the fact that I would much enjoy some physical activity with Niall. _But._ I try to ignore the throbbing in my pants, while I listen to the way he stops breathing for a moment.

 “Again with the story that I am worth more than this, Josh?”, he asks me in a feeble, brave voice. His hands relent a little but his face remains hidden and he doesn’t move away. And I really need him to, but at the same time, I don’t want him to feel… rejected. Not as a man – he’s gorgeous, let’s leave it at that – but as a friend in need.

 “I’m being hard on you because yes, that’s it. We’re friends, and friends just don’t fuck around like that”, I try to explain, patiently, through the haze of alcohol and warmth and Niall’s scent. Every sensation is so strong I can barely restrain myself from jumping at the opportunity and finishing the night in a blaze of glory. But I’m his friend, _dammit_ , and I need to help him out of this.

   “How is it that everyone can say I’m worth more than this but no one can ever give it to me?”, he asks finally, letting go of my shirt. “Because you gotta haul arse and go and find this person all by yourself, man,” I add, kissing him one last time on the temple. I let go to. We remain connected through ours hands – mine on his shoulders, his on my waist – but now there is a space, an emptiness, between us. And it’s full of memories, regrets and cold.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m freezing my ass off, Devine”, he smiles finally, a brittle and worn out thing that doesn’t really reach his eyes.

“I’m not the one who decided to wear only some flimsy tank top to go clubbing, showoff.” I try to laugh a little, and he follows my lead, and suddenly we find that we are laughing for real. He smiles again, and this time it’s the real deal, the Niall Horan Is A Ray Of Sunshine smile, and I’m almost relieved, because I can’t for the life of me remember the last time I saw it.

“It’s just… hard. You know. I’m so fucking happy for them that I could shit rainbows, but…,” he stops midsentence, trembling furiously because of the cold. I sigh, putting an arm around his shoulders, and he leans back into me. No sexual tension this time, luckily.

“But you spend your nights alone in some hotel room and they don’t,” I finish for him. He just bows his head, and, ouch, the sadness that’s pouring from him _hurts_.

“You’ve got the temper of a fucking Irish tempest, you know that, don’t you? All sweet, then all sad, then all bursting with adrenaline. Let’s stop this, go back together inside and, _if_ you don’t try to attempt at my virtue,” he interrupts me, snickering loudly, “I’ll even sleep in your room tonight.”

And, wow, his smile – the little, hidden one that he uses only when he’s content with life – it’s nice to see again. And knowing that I put it there is even better. ~~~~

“Tonight, I can live with that,” Niall says, and then plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek, and runs away.

Tonight is going to be a looong night, I just know it. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, welcome to my first English fic ever published - I hope you've made it to the end in one piece. Er, so.
> 
> I have to say that this fic would never have been posted if not for the beta'ng of [Luxover](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luxover/pseuds/luxover) and [Sunshinexbomb ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb/pseuds/sunshinexbomb).  
> They are two amazing writers here at AO3 (two amazing human beings too) - so go and read their works. You'll do yourself a favor. _Shooo_.
> 
> Obviously, if there are any mistakes left, it's my fault entirely - so feel free to point them out to me, and to leave me your positive/negative impressions and whatever you might want to share!  
> I'm a not native speaker, so I could really do with some suggestions and all that ;)
> 
> So, uhm. I hope you've liked this, it's not much, but still?


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